The Most Wonderful Thing
by rokiahda
Summary: A car crash… and a visiting great-Uncle with stories of the past arrive, just in time for Christmas.
1. Chapter 1 - Joy and Partings

**Author's Note: - I wrote this back in 2008 and published it on the HDA for one of their many story contests. I wanted to note that I did quite a lot of research for this story - and I hope you enjoy it. Christmas in March! :)**

 **The Most Wonderful Thing**

 **by Rokia**

 **Chapter 1**

"… Mister Green Christmas, I'm Mister Sun, I'm Mister Heat Blister, I'm Mister Hundred and One…

"…They call me Heat Miser, what ever I touch starts to melt in my clutch…I'm too much…"

The lyrics from the familiar song in "The Year Without a Santa Claus" sang out from the Hardy living room as Gertrude Hardy worked on polishing the crystal stemware they traditionally used on Christmas and she poked her head into the living room to see her younger nephew standing in front of the Christmas tree.

"Joseph Alexander Hardy, are you nine or nineteen? Quit shaking those presents young man!" Gertrude berated her blonde-haired, blue-eyed nephew. He looked quite boyish at the moment, more so than normal, dressed in blue and green striped flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers. A boyish smile graced his face as he shook the present in his hand and turned back to Gertrude.

"Good morning, Auntie." Joe's smile switched instantly to a grin as he set the present back under the large Christmas tree and crossed the living room to give Gertrude a kiss on the cheek. "Been up long?"

"Long enough to catch you up to no good." Gertrude swatted Joe playfully with her cleaning cloth. "Young hooligan. What time did you get home last night?"

"Almost one a.m.," Joe admitted with a yawn. "I would have been home earlier but Vanessa drove home with me instead of bringing her jeep and I had to take her out to the farm. Is Frank on his way home? He hasn't called me."

"Not yet." Gertrude turned to go back into the kitchen and put the glass she held away in the cabinet. "He plans to drop off Callie at the airport and wait with her until her plane departs. I really wish he would come home now; the snow is only going to get worse later this evening."

"He'll be fine, Auntie." Joe looked past her to spot the large plate of donuts sitting on the kitchen island. "Donuts!"

Joe grinned even more and bounced excitedly to the island. Four months away at the University of New York-Albany and he really missed his aunt's cooking. He swore, more than once, that the only purpose of the cafeteria on campus was to poison the students and he spent those months between breaks craving his aunt's muffins, chocolate cake and, yes, donuts.

"Manna," he said with a happy smile as he took a healthy bite of a donut. He chewed industriously and sighed with satisfaction.

"Joe!" he turned when he heard his mother's voice. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed Laura Hardy came over and wrapped her arms around her tall son, pulling him close and giving him a kiss on the cheek. He returned the hug and grinned as he stood back and studied her. She looked the same as always; fit and petite without a hint of gray in her hair.

"Hi, Mom," he said. "I missed you. You are looking good."

"You as well. Merry Christmas, son. I'm glad you're home safe."

"And starving." Joe turned his attention to the donut for a moment. He took a bite large enough to go to the hole in the middle and grinned as he wiped a glop of chocolate frosting off his nose. "You should see the glop they call breakfast at school. I never thought anyone could mess up a pancake – or bacon." Joe sucked on his finger and savored the fudgy chocolate.

"Poor baby." Laura patted his shoulder, blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "Let's feed the poor, starving boy up, Gertrude. He's wasting away before our eyes."

Joe shook his head morosely at the lack of compassion and sniffed playfully – just before snagging another donut and finishing it off in four bites.

"Awesome," he sighed as his aunt placed a large glass of milk in front of him. "Can I package you up and bring you back to school with me, Auntie?"

Gertrude snorted as she moved from polishing stemware to the plates just removed from their storages boxes. She rubbed her polishing cloth industriously along each plate and sat it atop a stack on the counter, ready to be put on the table the next day for their Christmas dinner.

"We have a surprise coming for Christmas." Laura leaned back against the island. "Something I think you'll like."

Joe looked up from his breakfast, eyes shining with curiosity. "Another present? What is it?"

"Nine," Gertrude muttered.

Joe grinned mischievously at his aunt.

"Uncle James is coming, young hooligan," Gertrude stated primly.

"Yes!" Joe cheered. "We haven't seen him since I was fifteen. He's back in the country again?"

Laura nodded. "Yes, he arrived back in the States last month and promised a Christmas visit. No doubt you and your brother might entice a story or two from him."

Joe grinned with satisfaction – and excitement. His Uncle James – really his great-uncle, the brother of his Grandfather Hardy, was a favorite relative. Uncle James was over eighty, maybe almost eighty-five and ran around like a man half his age. James had served in World War II and told awesome stories, both of the war and his many travels since the war. Even at his age, Uncle James traveled a lot as he consulted with various companies, taught or lectured at universities and colleges or took the time to learn something new from a never-before-visited country.

Uncle James visited rarely but when he did, the older man always had good stories to tell. Joe remembered tales from the front lines in the Battle of the Bulge and other stories from trips to see tribes in darkest Africa. When Joe was younger he often dreamed about doing what James did – traveling places, seeing new things – and then he got bit by the sleuthing bug.

"I can't wait to see him," Joe bounced again. "When's he coming?"

"Noon today, or thereabouts." Laura joined Gertrude in the polishing of the stemware and plates. "Almost enough time for you to unpack and get dressed."

"Awesome. I can't wait to see him. Too bad Frank won't be here until later; he'll miss out on the early stories!"

"You can always wait until he gets home before you start begging for stories," Laura commented dryly. "At least give your uncle time to settle in before you start begging. Anyway, Frank felt he should drop Callie off at the airport, since she won't be home over Christmas break."

"Callie wasn't thrilled to be having to go to Chicago over Christmas," Joe commented, remembering one of his last conversations with his brother. "I think she just wanted to spend her whole Christmas break at home, instead of at a cousin's house across the country. Frank said she fought with her parents for over a month about it before giving up."

Laura looked sympathetic. "I can't blame her, really. You don't get too many breaks from your studies. I do wish Frank went to a closer school but I understand his desire to attend Georgetown. Two and a half years later I should be used to it, right?"

Joe looked away for a moment. "I miss him. I hate that we're in different schools – but I couldn't hold him back when it was so important to him. We'll get to work together when we're done with school, after all. And he'll be graduated before we know it and me only a year later…"

"How often do you talk?" Laura asked curiously. "Weekly, at least?"

"Two or three times a week," Joe said. "Not often enough if you ask me."

"And how are your grades?" Gertrude asked from her polishing station.

"Good," Joe grinned. "A's and B's. I had the worst time with Calculus this year. I don't know how Frank manages to pull off straight A's in that class. I must have called him twenty-five times just with calculus questions."

Laura grinned. "You take after your father in that, my dear. He hates math too. He says if he can't add it, subtract it, multiply it or divide it, he doesn't want to deal with it."

"I knew someone in our family had some sense," Joe grinned as he polished off his last donut and finished his glass of milk. "I'd better go get dressed. I can't wait to see Uncle James again!"

Joe bounced back up the stairs.

=MOSTWONDERFULTHING=

"Wow, I hope we don't get snowed in." Callie Shaw peered out the window of the car at the swirling snow. "Or maybe I hope we do and I can just go home with you. It would be far more fun than Christmas at Jonah's house."

"Your mom would have a cow, you know that," Frank Hardy smiled at his girlfriend. She looked lovely today, dressed in a dark red sweater which he saw under her black cashmere coat. "I'm sure you'll get out before the snow gets too deep. This is winter, after all."

"Yeah," Callie sighed. "I just hate having to go to Chicago on one of my few breaks from school. I love seeing my family but…I guess I'm being selfish."

"If you were selfish you wouldn't be going at all," Frank chided her as he squeezed her gloved hand. "It'll be fine, honey."

Callie smiled at him and relaxed a little. She leaned over and put her head on his shoulder, as much as the seatbelt allowed and peered outside at the thick flakes that splattered on the windshield of the car. Frank rubbed her knee as he drove but mostly tried to pay attention more to the snow and the road than to Callie – much as he preferred otherwise.

"Your flight is probably more delayed than it was when we called." Looking at the snow he sighed with relief – the snow fell but nowhere near hard enough, at the moment, to cancel all flights. So far, the flight from Washington-Reagan to Chicago maintained a two hour delay – instead of leaving at a little before noon, it was due to leave a little before two p.m.

When they arrived at the airport the snow fell a little more steadily and they both feared Callie might not take off after all. Frank followed her to the check-in counter, rolling her suitcase for her, and stood with her. As he waited, he people-watched. Most travelers looked frazzled and anxious, some harassing the counter attendants, others just standing quietly or fiddling with their bags, listening to the usual holiday mayhem. He heard the strains of "I'll Be Home For Christmas" being played over the airport system and the occasional report about not leaving bags unattended.

"…late from Miami," the attendant was saying to Callie when Frank turned his attention back to her. "We're still hoping to get you out but right now the flight is running two hours late. We're having to play it by ear."

"Is there another flight I can take?" Callie asked anxiously.

"I'm afraid not. All flights leaving earlier have stand-by lists nearly twenty customers long already."

Callie sighed. "Okay, thanks for letting me know. Is there a place on this side of security we can wait?"

"There are several restaurants on this side of the security lines. You should probably go through security well before your flight is due to leave, however. When the plane arrives we'll be turning around swiftly to get you out."

Callie nodded. "Thank you."

Frank wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her gently. "It'll be okay. You'll get there."

Callie smiled back at him. "I know. Listen, do you want to go ahead and take off, get going? You shouldn't have to wait…"

"Baby, I am not going to leave until I know you're in the air. I'll call my mom and let her know I'm going to be later getting home. Come on, let's go find somewhere to eat lunch."

Callie took his hand and squeezed it.

"I love you, Frank Hardy." She leaned over and hugged him.

"I love you, Callie Shaw." Frank tilted forward and kissed her again.

=ENDOFCHAPTER=

Thanks for reading! Rokia


	2. Chapter 2 - Uncle James

Chapter 2

James Franklin Hardy pulled his car into the driveway outside his nephew Fenton's home and leaned back as he put the car into Park. Silently he gave thanks for excellent health and a safe journey. Many men his age were unable to see well enough to drive or to travel all about the world but he, thanks to the Creator, still possessed excellent eyesight, strong muscles and the physique of a man twenty or so years younger.

The front door of the house flew open and a tall young man with blonde hair stepped out, smile wide. For a moment James did a double-take – who could this be? – before he realized: little Joey – not so little anymore. James grinned as he stepped out of his Taurus and met Joe halfway.

"Uncle James!" Joe grinned and he offered James a hand. James accepted it, and then pulled his nephew into a hug.

"You've gotten tall," James commented with a ruffle of Joe's blonde curls.

"Still an inch shorter than Frank, drat it all," Joe groused good-naturedly as he shivered in his dark sweater. James grinned in return and patted Joe on the back with a gloved hand as Joe continued. "Cold out, let's get your bags and go in where it's warm. Aunt Gertrude and Mom have been baking up a storm in preparation and I bet we can find some hot chocolate or something."

"Good idea." James ruffled Joe's hair again and went to open the trunk. Joe took two bags by their handles and hefted them up. "Careful with those, lad. There just might be a present or two inside. If you destroy them you won't be getting any replacements."

"Treat 'em like glass, Uncle," Joe promised. "C'mon in."

James laughed as he followed Joe inside. As always his younger great-nephew reminded him of an old army bud, Albert 'Bud' MacPherson – blonde hair, bubbly personality and the ability to make a man laugh harder than should be allowed. Joe held the door open as James passed through and James saw his nephew standing in the entryway.

"Fenton, my lad," James hugged his nephew. "It's good to see you."

"And you, Uncle James," Fenton agreed as he shifted to one side to allow Joe through with James' bags. Joe disappeared toward the staircase that led to the second floor of the home and Fenton hugged his uncle manfully. "It's been too long since we last saw each other."

"Much too long," James agreed. "I'm glad to be here, son. How is your family?"

James followed Fenton up the stairs as he listened to the younger man talk of family and home. His wife Laura's efforts with two charity foundations, one for the environment and the other for children's cancer; Frank's choice of college and his major and schooling efforts as well as Joe's college and career choice. He let the words wash over and through him, as always taking to heart any news of family.

"Frank should be home this evening sometime," Fenton continued as they went into a room to the right at the top of the stairs. "He had to drop his girlfriend off at the airport in DC before he drives home. He wanted me to let you know he can't wait to see you again."

"Just so long as he comes safely." James reached for the suitcases Joe placed on the bed and began to open them. "I think neither of us has a desire for him to have a mishap on the roads before he arrives home. His girlfriend – is she the same he had last time I was here? The pretty blonde with the brown eyes?"

"Callie Shaw, yes," Fenton agreed as he helped James unpack. "They've been dating for five years now and no signs of letting up. I have no doubts we'll hear of an engagement sometime soon, though I know both are devoted to finishing college before marriage. And for that I'm grateful. I don't think either of them need to rush to get married at this point."

"She's pretty cool," Joe agreed, "I gotta admit. We haven't always gotten along as well as we could have but anyone who likes Frank as much as she does can't be all bad."

"Joseph Alexander Hardy!" James chastised his nephew. "I daresay she's more than not all bad. And have you found yourself a girl yet?"

Joe looked away for a moment as he nodded. James touched his shoulder, turning the young man around to look into Joe's solemn blue eyes. Something in the depths of those blue eyes looked pained; James wished he might take away that pain and make it so that it never happened. Christmas – a time of joy, not of sorrow – right?

"Your aunt told me about your girl. Iola? I'm so very sorry, son," James said softly. "I know what it is to lose someone you care for. Perhaps I should tell that tale later on, when I've gotten settled."

Joe smiled softly while picking at an invisible thread on his sweater, cheeks slightly flushed. "I love your stories, Uncle James. And yes, I do have a girlfriend. Vanessa. I met her my last year of high school. We both go to the same school, University of New York, Albany. She's a graphics art major, I'm majoring in criminal psychology."

James saw one of Fenton's eyebrows go up as the younger man spoke. "You changed majors?"

Joe nodded lopsidedly while gazing out the window. Large, white flakes of snow slowly drifted down from the sky and joined the inch or so already on the ground.

"I did some reading," Joe looked as if the window entranced him; seeming to not want to face his father. "And I just…I just knew that was the right field. Frank's always been good at the technical aspects at solving our cases; he's top-notch at the criminal science part. I want to understand the psychology involved, maybe be a profiler, so I talked to my advisor in October and changed my major. I have three psych classes this next semester."

Fenton patted Joe's shoulder and Joe finally turned to look at him. James felt almost an intruder as he watched them and he stepped back a step or two. "You know all I want is for you to have a job that makes you happy, Joe. I think you'd make a fine profiler."

"It's challenging." Joe looked fairly excited. "Learning what goes on in peoples' heads, learning even more about what goes on in the head of a criminal who commits certain types of crimes. I really do like the psychology courses – I didn't think I would when I started taking them – but they're my most interesting classes. And this way, I definitely have a role to play in our agency – and not just a sort of fill-in, but something I can do really well."

"You, Joe Hardy, were never a fill-in," Fenton chastised Joe gently. "Ever. You've always been a solid member of the company and you always will be. How many times have you saved your brother's bacon on a case? Or mine?"

Joe shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Well, I know," he agreed. "I just…you know…anyway."

"Determined to follow in your dad's footsteps?" James questioned with a playful chuck at Joe's shoulder as he stepped forward again. "Chip off the old block?"

"Old?" Fenton protested. "I'm not old!"

Joe smirked, his expression instantly less melancholy and more thrilled. "You keep telling yourself that, Pop and maybe someday you'll believe it!"

Fenton glowered at his son – and his uncle. "I see how it is. Ganging up on me time. I think I hear your mom calling! Exit…Stage Left!"

James watched Fenton turn to his right and saunter out the door. Joe exchanged a glance with him and both James and Joe broke up laughing.

"That was soooo corny," Joe remarked a few moments later as he went to help his uncle finish unpacking. "So, speaking of stories, I know you have to have some good ones. I love your stories from the past you know. I expect lots and lots while you're here."

"I might be enticed." James pulled out a picture frame that contained an old black and white photo of a young woman in her early twenties, hair piled on her head in a soft bun. He stared at it for a moment, touching the frame. The woman stared back at him, the same expression he saw every day, a slight smirk that spoke volumes of her demeanor. He finally set it down on the bedside table and glanced over at Joe who studied the picture intently.

"Is that…Aunt Lou?" Joe asked softly. "Aunt Gertrude mentioned her a few times."

"It's her," James agreed mildly. "I'll tell you more about her later, if you'd like."

 _I think my heart can stand it now,_ James thought _. Dead past sixty years and it feels like yesterday still in some ways. A fellow can't replace that._

"Let's go down and see your aunt and mother." James turned away from the photo. "We can finish unpacking later. For now, I think I hear a cup of your aunt's special cocoa calling my name. Do you know I dreamed of that cocoa last year?"

"Really?" Joe bounded toward the door and led the way down the stairs. "You dream of cocoa?"

"Son, when something is as special as your aunt's cocoa…" James followed more sedately. After all, at just over eighty-one years of age, a man's bones did creak occasionally, even if he felt only sixty. "You not only crave it, you dream of it. And you remember all those special times, such as the time you first drank it. I bet you still remember that to this day, don't you?"

Joe nodded emphatically from the bottom of the staircase, a dreamy smile on his face. "Yeah, I was five. We were out on a hay-ride with some of my parents' friends from church and singing Christmas carols. Aunt Gertrude gave me some in a Santa Claus cup. I sneezed and nearly sprayed some out of my nose but she just gave me more…"

Joe blinked and looked over at James who now stood beside him. "You're right, you do always remember when you first tried it. She told me it was Aunt Lou's recipe first?"

James nodded though he felt misty as he always did thinking of his wife. "That it was, lad," he agreed softly. "That it was."

"Uncle James, you old reprobate!"

James' smile broadened as he looked over at his niece and swept her into a hug that lifted her off her feet and made her protest fussily. "Put me down this instant!"

"Never you mind, my little Trudy-belle." James finally set Gertrude back down on the floor as he reached over to give his niece-in-law a similar hug. Laura protested much less – and without Gertrude's height weighed less as well. Laura kissed him on the cheek and returned the hug with fervor.

"Welcome home, Uncle James," she said softly. "It's so very good to have you here again."

James offered arms to both ladies and led them into the kitchen. He not only smelled the hot chocolate but the cinnamon, nutmeg and hint of mint that went into the cocoa on brewing. Other scents greeted his nostrils; for instance the rows of sugar cookies lying on racks on the island countertop and the aroma of peanut butter from similar rows of cookies on one of the other countertops.

"You ladies know how to spoil a man," James stated after several appreciative sniffs of the aromas. "I think I feel my waistline expanding as I stand here."

"Nonsense, Uncle," Gertrude retorted primly. "Most of this will go to church tonight for the Christmas Eve service. I think we can spare a few for an old man, however."

"I'm sure Fenton will appreciate it," James grinned.

"Hey!" Fenton protested. "Cut it out with the 'old' nonsense, old man!"

James glanced over at the entrance to the kitchen where he saw his youngest nephew standing, mouth agape as he stared at the three older adults in the room. Joe's mouth kept working over and over, mouthing the same words before he finally spoke them out loud.

"Trudy-belle?"

*endofchapter*endofchapter*

 **Author's Note:** Thanks Max - and if it does bring real snow - be safe! :) Cheryl, you SHOULD remember it, we were part of the same story writing contest! :) I hope you continue to enjoy it.


	3. Chapter 3 - Farewells and Fond Memories

author's note: Thanks again for the reviews, Cheryl and Max! I'm glad the snow didn't arrive, Max. grin. And now, on with the show!

 **THE MOST WONDERFUL THING**

 **by Rokia**

 **Chapter 3**

Frank held onto Callie's hand as they walked slowly toward the security line at Washington Reagan International Airport and felt her squeeze his hand more tightly. Despite only having twenty minutes before the plane's newly scheduled take-off time, Callie seemed to be in no hurry. Frank stopped just short of the line and pulled Callie close before he very gently kissed her.

"We're acting like it's going to be a hundred years before we see each other again," Callie laughed a moment later. She grimaced as a rushing passenger shoved past, knocking her into Frank who held her tightly to keep her on her feet. Callie glared at the rusher before shrugging; everyone felt just a little rushed and worried this time of year. She, at least, had the most handsome man in the place on her arm. "We'll see each other in three weeks."

"I know." Frank gently lifted a lock of her blonde hair out of her face. "I'm going to wait out here until I know your plane has taken off – if it gets canceled you can ride with me to Bayport."

Callie glanced worriedly at the far distant window and saw nothing but a grayish white.

"Are you sure you should wait? It's going to get worse before it gets better out there." She turned back to Frank while idly playing with one of the cords on his parka. She wrapped it nervously around one finger as she studied him, for once calm as she shook her head.

"I'll be fine." Frank shrugged in return and gently led Callie even closer to the security line. "I'd worry more if you were stranded here because your flight got cancelled at the last minute. I don't mind waiting and it seems safer to me than getting on the road a few minutes earlier."

They stood together for a few more moments before Callie let go of Frank.

"I love you," she said as she stepped into the line going to security. She removed her ticket and driver's license from her purse. "Stay safe. Call me when you get home tonight! I mean it, no matter how late it is."

"Promise," Frank grinned at her while he shifted out of the way of other passengers. "I love you too. Be careful."

Frank stood and watched her until she made it past the metal detectors, turned and blew him a kiss and proceeded more slowly to her departure gate.

Frank found a seat near the screens that displayed arrival and departure times, as well as cancellations for various flights. Almost every flight displayed was delayed or cancelled, depending on the airline, destination, advice of the air traffic control and, Frank suspected, the sheer gutsiness of the pilot. All flights leaving after two p.m. showed cancelled and some passengers sat nearby, looking forlorn or, in some cases, arguing with someone over a cell phone. Still more sat patiently, either resigned to their fates or willing to put up with the wait until able to leave the airport.

Frank glanced occasionally at the screen and, almost a half hour after Callie said goodbye, her flight number changed to 'departed.'

Frank walked slowly back to the parking garage but stopped by a window to blow a kiss toward the sky.

*themostwonderfulthing*themostwonderfulthing*

"Hi Mom, it's Frank," Frank spoke into his cell phone as he waited for his car to warm up before leaving.

" _Hello, son,"_ Laura returned warmly and Frank relaxed slightly. _"Is Callie off?"_

"Yes," Frank leaned back in his seat. "Just a few minutes ago. I'm about to leave here. I probably won't be home until pretty late."

" _Maybe you should stay there and drive home tomorrow_ ," Laura suggested, the worry clear in her voice. " _It's going to get worse before it gets better. It's almost white-out conditions here._ "

"I really want to get on the road." Frank rubbed his forehead. "If it really does get so bad I can't see, I promise to find somewhere to stop."

Laura sighed. " _Call every hour_ ," she ordered. " _Or if anything happens. By the way, your Uncle James is here for the holiday_."

"Uncle James!" Frank grinned delightedly. "That's awesome. We haven't seen him for… what? Five years now?"

" _Yes, that's right_ ," Laura agreed. " _He'll be here when you get here. Safely, young man. Drive carefully._ "

"Sure, Mom, I will. Tell everyone I said hello. Bye!"

" _Goodbye, son_."

Frank leaned forward and shifted his car into reverse. It was time to go home.

*themostwonderfulthing*themostwonderfulthing*

"Ya know, I don't think I was dreaming of this much of a white Christmas." Joe leaned forward on the windowsill to watch the snow swirling about outside, blocking out even the houses of the neighbors across Elm Street. "We haven't had snow like this since, when was it, Dad? Three years ago? Four?"

"Four." Fenton looked up from his newspaper. "You remember all the problems we had with snow removal? They plowed the snow so high getting the driveway cleared was problematic without a small snow plow to do it."

"I remember," Joe groused in memory. "We spent all day trying to get the driveway free. They cancelled school for four days!"

"Oh yes, that was a marvelous time." Laura frowned as she helped James place his gifts for the family around the Christmas Tree. "I wasn't sure who I wanted to yell at more. You and Frank for nearly breaking a window during a snowball fight or your father for some rather colorful language he used when trying to deal with the snow."

"Colorful language, Fenton?" James glanced sideways at his nephew. "You wouldn't, would you?"

"I would and I did." Fenton kept his attention on the newspaper he held. "If you saw the snow, you'd use colorful language too."

"I've seen great snowfalls," James grinned as he settled into the long sofa on one side of the living room. "I've been in a few…"

 _December 21, 1939_

Who ordered this mess? _James demanded of himself as he reached for the snow shovel his father fashioned only the year before, to start removing snow from the sidewalk in front of the house._ Makes it hard for a man to go calling when the snow falls so deeply.

 _James looked over at his father who continued to beat snow out of trees that hung too close to the house. Both men were dressed warmly, in knitted gloves, heavy jackets, long johns and boots. Inside, James saw his mother fussing with the curtains in the living room._

 _All around them, people suffered from the effects of the Depression, making ingenuity and thriftiness very important. The shovel James used was made of wood and tied tightly about with twine and glued together with a heavy wood glue. James doubted the shovel's ability to stay together while he moved the heavy snow but he shoveled without fail, moving all snow to one side or the other of the walk and stopping occasionally to wipe snow from his face._

" _Need help, son?" Robert Hardy asked the young man who threw another shovelful of snow to one side. "I'm done beating the trees and bushes."_

" _Sure, Papa," James agreed. "This is hard work. Think Mama will have some cocoa ready when we get inside?"_

" _Cocoa's hard to come by, son," Robert reminded his son. Luxuries weren't to be had unless one managed to maintain a fair sum of money during this long drought of ready cash. "But your mama might just manage something warm when we get back inside."_

 _James nodded. He missed cocoa. He heard tell that the grocer hoped to have a supply soon but for now most of the town went without, unless able to travel to one of the larger cities to purchase there._

We may not have a lot of money but we don't need it. _James matched his father shovelful for shovelful._ Be nice if we could get a few more things though.

 _James never voiced those concerns out loud to his father._

" _A good cup of tea will be good too. It's cold out here!" James grinned as he threw the very last necessary shovel of snow onto the lawn. His father took both of the shovels and set them in the shed beside the house and they both went inside, stamping feet on the small carpet beside the door and removing boots when done._

" _Mama, we're done!" James called out. "Got anything warm to drink?"_

" _I do," Susan Hardy called back from the kitchen. "Go warm yourself by the fire, I'll bring the drinks out."_

 _James threw his coat onto the coat rack, set his gloves, hat and scarf on the shelf by the coat rack and went into the small, tidy living room. He sat down right on the hearth for the fireplace and enjoyed the warmth as he held his hands forward._

" _That was right hard work," James commented with an adroit smile. "It's done for a few minutes though. You squirts are lucky you don't have to help out."_

 _James' brother and sister – 10 year old Winston and 7 year old Kathleen – looked up from where they sat at the table in the living room, both mashing something inside of a large pot._

" _Me too," Kathleen shivered as she rubbed her hands together. "Sounds awful out there."_

 _Winston shrugged and scowled at the pot of potatoes he mashed. "Rather do that than this," he muttered under his breath. James laughed and tousled his brother's hair. Winston protested heartily and slapped at his brother's hands._

" _You kids finish up those potatoes and carrots," James' mother ordered, "If you want to eat sometime tonight."_

 _James grinned as he peered outside while sipping his cup of tea. A moment later he gazed over at his father. "Think everyone's in safe tonight?"_

" _If they use any of the sense God gave them they are." Robert sat in his favorite armchair by the fire, holding up a book and studying the cover before opening it. "Anyone in particular you're worried about?"_

 _James shrugged. It was hard for most everyone in the village but even worse for one of his best friends. Lenny Trivale lived in an old barn just outside the city limits – a barn with no electricity and nothing to warm them but a fire that did too poor a job._

" _Just thinking about Lenny, Papa." James rubbed his hands together. "You know how cold that old barn gets in the winter. I always worry they'll get sick or freeze when it's like this."_

" _Leonard Senior is no slouch, son." Robert regarded James for a moment. James returned the gaze steadily as the fire crackled and popped. "He's always done a fair job keeping his family safe. He knows he can come here if it gets too much. Not much more we can do to help than that."_

 _James shrugged and nodded. His mother handed him a cup filled with warm, spicy tea and he drank it gratefully. The heat of the drink did the work of warming him the rest of the way through. He moved to the couch across from the window and gazed at their small Christmas tree. It stood only four feet tall and sat atop one of the small end tables. His mother had decorated it with stringed corn and small home-made cloth ornaments that resembled angels._

" _Thanks, Mama." James leaned back and watched the snow fall. He dozed off without meaning to sleep at all._

" _Son, wake up." James sat straight up on the sofa when he felt his father shaking his shoulder. "We need to get out and help. I can see a fire down the street – looks like the Kinnesons' place. Get your things on and grab the buckets from the shed!"_

 _James jumped to his feet and ran for his coat and outdoor things. The village only had one small water-pump, drawn by horse from the small fire house by the sheriff's house, and otherwise relied on neighbors with buckets to help with fires. Winston and Kathleen protested having to stay in the house but their mother insisted they get ready for bed._

 _The Kinnesons were one of the better off families in town – Kinneson senior served as the town's doctor. Jenny Kinneson, Donald Kinneson's wife, worked as a teacher at the schoolhouse and their son, Michael, was one of James' best friends._

 _James raced down the short street to the house at the very end and saw the flames shooting up into the sky. He looked about frantically and saw Jenny and Mike both in front of one of the neighbor's houses and Donald Kinneson helping throw snow onto the flames that threatened to destroy his house utterly._

 _James joined in the fray with one of the buckets; his father took another and he wasn't sure who took the third. The water pump arrived and began to shoot water over the top of the flames while some of the men worked from the bottom of the house._

 _It was hard, exhausting work to try to put out a fire. When the fire finally subsided, James felt so weary he thought maybe he would have to crawl home. He saw his mother standing beside Mrs. Kinneson, wrapping an arm – and a warm shawl – about the distraught woman's shoulders._

" _Thanks for helpin'." James looked over at his friend. Michael looked just as tired as James felt. His dark eyes gazed morosely at the charred remains of their house._

" _You okay?" James asked wearily. "You're not hurt are you?"_

" _No," Mike shook his head and rubbed at his face, spreading about more soot and blackening it further. "Not hurt physically."_

" _That's good." James resisted the urge to collapse on the ground._

" _Some Christmas," Mike muttered as he leaned against a fence. "We lost pretty much everything."_

" _You got each other," James stated lamely and shrugged. "Well, it seems so anyway. I'm sorry, Mike. I wish I coulda done more."_

" _Did what you could," Mike shrugged. "Mama's waving. Let's go see what she wants."_

 _They approached Jenny Kinneson and James' mother._

" _Mrs. Hardy offered to have you stay with them for a bit," Jenny said. "She offered to find room for all of us, but your father and I will stay in the office, at least tonight. It's warm and we can make a bed of the sofa. I think you should go stay with the Hardys for now."_

 _Mike frowned, looking as though he wanted to protest._

" _Mama…"_

" _It's for the best, Michael," Jenny said. "And it's not permanent, just until we can find a new place to live. We'll still have Christmas together."_

 _Michael frowned but finally nodded._

" _You boys both run on home," James' mother ordered them. "Get warm and get a bed set up in your room for Michael, James. Go on with you."_

"We went on home," James explained to his nephew as he wound down his story. "And both fell asleep almost before we got Michael's bed made. We were so tired we didn't wake up until well into the next morning."

"That's sad, what happened to your friend." Joe peered over at his uncle. "Did they manage to recover okay?"

"Better than you'd think. One thing to know about small towns like that; something bad happens and everyone in the town pitches in, even if they don't have much. The Kinnesons were popular – Doc Kinneson often treated people for free, just because they needed it. It took them almost ten years to get the house rebuilt. They took over a house that had been abandoned years earlier and needed some work."

James smiled reflectively. "We had a good Christmas that year. The Kinnesons came over for the holiday; they'd gotten plenty of packages from the townsfolk, enough to set-up house and we opened them like the finest of Christmas gifts."

Joe returned that reflective smile as he looked outside. The snow was as heavy as ever and he prayed to himself: "Please let Frank get home safely."

*endofchapter*endofchapter*

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4 - Callie and Lou

Author's Note: Thanks for reading - and for the awesome feedback! I'm glad that you like Uncle James - he was a lot of fun for me to write. The Most Wonderful Thing

 **by Rokia**

Chapter 4

Traffic down the freeway was, thankfully, relatively thin but Frank kept a tight hold on his steering wheel as he made his way through the thickening snow toward the place he called home. Outside his car the snow fell in soft flakes that gathered thickly on the cars and roads but still left enough vision to see fairly well ahead of the car. He kept his speed several miles below the speed limit – with the idea that getting home safely meant more than not getting home at all – and he smiled with satisfaction while he drove. So far, so good.

Frank reached over to turn on his currently silent radio and hit the seek button until he found a station playing Christmas music. He hummed along – rather off-key – to "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to "Jingle Bell Rock."

His first hourly check-in at home came and went. He spoke to his mom for only about thirty seconds, assuring her that yes, he was still alive and yes, he was still on his way home and no, he hadn't had any trouble so far. He kept the conversation short; he hated talking on the cell phone and driving at the same time, especially in inclement weather.

 _Too bad my fellow drivers don't feel the same way,_ Frank groused as he saw another idiot fly by in the passing lane, cell phone firmly affixed to his face. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and mentally chewed out the other driver.

 _I wouldn't be surprised if I pass him later because he's gone off the road, the jerk,_ Frank continued to grumble. _And now enough of this grumping about other drivers. Think about something…something good. That would be good. Yup. Callie!_

Frank never failed to smile when he thought of his girlfriend with her bright smile, her vivacious brown eyes, her curvy figure and her bright blonde hair – and he remembered how he first met her, six years ago.

" _Frank! Hey, Frank!" Frank turned around as he heard his best friend bellowing at him from down the hall, racing toward where Frank stood in front of his locker, despite the no-running edict that ruled the Bayport High School hallways._

" _What's up, Phil?" Frank asked the other boy while he reached into his locker for his chemistry textbook. "You're not supposed to run, you know."_

" _Sorry," Phil grinned unapologetically. "Here, I finally got you that program you were wanting for your computer – the anti-spyware? I'm the king of computers; you've come to the right place, you know."_

 _Frank rolled his eyes. "Well, thank you, your highness. Do you have any ideas for keeping kid brothers from signing up for every stupid thing that comes along and causes all the spyware?"_

" _Yeah," Phil grinned. "Don't let him anywhere near your computer."_

" _Huh, that'll be the day," Frank retorted. "I don't see that happening at all."_

" _Then use this and run it often. It'll help." Phil chucked his friend on the shoulder. "Let's go to Chem!"_

 _They walked at a very fast pace down the hallway, up a flight of stairs and down another hallway, arriving in the Chemistry lab just before the bell rang. They sat down promptly in their seats and their teacher, Mr. Jenson, walked in with a blonde haired girl who immediately caught Frank's attention._

" _Attention class," Mr. Jenson said. "We have a new freshman here at Bayport High School. This is Callie Shaw. Callie, this is the Freshman AP Chemistry Class. Why don't you have a seat beside…Hardy and Cohen there. Hardy?"_

 _Frank waved his hand to the intriguing blonde and smiled at her as she came to sit beside him. He leaned over toward her and whispered in her ear,_

" _Welcome to Bayport High. I'm Frank Hardy. Did you just move here?"_

That was a stupid question, Hardy. Of course she just moved here! _he berated himself._

" _Happy to meet you, Frank Hardy. And yes, my dad got transferred here. We're still unpacking."_

 _They were unable to talk more during their lecture and experiment – most of which Frank missed. Something about his new table partner left him wanting to learn everything he could about her. Name, age, favorite flower, what kind of perfume she wore…_

" _Earth to Hardy, Earth to Frank Hardy, come in Frank Hardy," Phil chimed from next to him a few moments later and Frank blinked, peering over at his best friend. "Class is over, you know."_

 _Frank looked around and blushed. Callie still sat beside him, going over her class schedule._

" _Do either of you know where AP English is?" she asked. "I haven't figured out the classroom codes yet."_

" _That's our next class." Frank stood quickly and put his chemistry book into his book bag. "Do you have your book? Did you find your locker? What number do you have?"_

 _Callie studied her folder of school information. "I'm in locker 114 – that's on the first floor, right?"_

" _Right next to mine," Frank grinned. "I'm in 113. English is right next to our lockers. Are you in group A or B?"_

 _Callie looked at her information again. "Group A."_

" _Great, we're in the same group. We have lunch first, after English, while Group B has another class, and then lunch. Come on."_

 _Frank missed the smirk on Phil's face as Frank escorted the sunny blonde around the school, showing her around, introducing her to fellow friends and discussing teachers, classes and extra-curricular activities. Phil, who met Frank when they were both five and in the same kindergarten class, continued to enjoy the moment of his friend's first obvious crush. Frank ignored it all, too intent on making some kind of good impression on the new girl._

 _It took him nearly four days to work up the nerve – first to ask his parents if it was okay and then to ask Callie herself – if she would be able to go to a movie with him and his brother and his brother's friend, Iola Morton. Callie looked interested – at least if Frank understood the light in her eyes – and said she would ask her parents and let him know._

 _Their first date was that Friday; they saw an action-adventure flick that Callie loved._

" _You really like that girl don't you?" he remembered Joe asking the next day. "Callie something."_

" _Shaw," Frank retorted shortly. "Callie Shaw. I've told you three times now."_

" _Yeah, yeah, Callie Shaw. But are you sure you should spend so much time with a GIRL, Frank? I mean… she's a girl!"_

" _Uh, idiot," Frank bopped his brother on the back of the head. "Iola's a girl too."_

" _She doesn't count!" Joe insisted. "First, we've known her since I was like…three or something and second… she's almost a boy. She doesn't get all girly like that Callie girl does."_

 _Frank shrugged. "She's still a girl – and you spend as much time with her as I do with Callie. Whether you want to admit it or not."_

 _Joe frowned and Frank hid a smile behind his hand._

" _You may not know it yet," he said softly. "But Callie's a great girl and I really like her. A great girl."_

 _A great girl,_ Frank thought as he looked around at the cars that drove by him – or in front of him. _Nothing's changed since I met her, nothing at all – except I like her – love her – even more now than I did back then._

It happened so fast Frank barely realized what happened. A car sped around him and recklessly changed lanes so fast that Frank had no option but to try to swerve out of the way.

A moment later his car went tumbling over the side rail and a few moments later he ended up upside down, the world caving in on him.

*mostwonderfulthing*mostwonderfulthing*

Joe sat down beside his uncle on the sofa again, a new cup of hot cocoa in his hands as he peered over at the item on James' lap. James held one of his many photo albums, this one an older one filled with black and white photos and even a few older daguerreotype pictures of ancestors even older than James. Joe sipped at his cocoa as James opened the album, pointing out various relatives, from aunts and uncles and cousins to his great-great-great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents.

"This," Joe pointed to an old photo, similar to the one on his uncle's beside table. "It's another picture of Aunt Lou, isn't it?"

James ran a finger along the lines of the woman's face. "Louisa Jane Amesbury," He touched her nose. "The most beautiful woman I ever met. I was seventeen and attending a local dance with another girl I knew. It was held at the town hall every year for Christmas…."

*mostwonderfulthing*mostwonderfulthing*

 _December 23, 1941_

" _You haven't had your eyes off her all night!" Emily Smythe retorted as she glared hotly at her date. "You came with me, remember?"_

 _James turned to his date, a sheepish expression on his face. "I'm most sorry, Emily," he begged pardon for his behavior._

 _Emily, petite, slightly plump and blonde frowned. "I've turned down many offers to dance tonight, James Hardy. Why don't you go ask her and I'll go dance with another. You aren't much of a dancer you know."_

 _James smiled, still shamefaced and shrugged, "Always had two left feet, Emily. I really am sorry I ain't been an attentive date."_

 _Emily shrugged nonchalantly, tossing her long hair back. "Just as well. I'm off. You're on your own now."_

 _She turned and flounced off to one of her admirers and James turned again to view the tall, dark-haired lass nearby. She wore her lovely hair up in a delicate coiffure atop her head and a beautiful long gown of blue chiffon. Her blue eyes, several shades lighter than her dress, sparkled as she gazed at James again. Screwing up his courage, James approached._

" _I'm James." James held out a hand to her. "James Hardy. I was wonderin' if you'd care to dance, Miss…"_

 _The dark-haired lass eyed him for a moment before taking his hand._

" _Lou," she stated calmly. "Lou Amesbury."_

" _Lou?" James, unable to hide his surprise at such a name, clamped down on any other utterances. "Such a name for a pretty gal, Miss Amesbury."_

" _Short for Louisa." Lou's nose wrinkled disdainfully. "I prefer Lou. Now you mentioned a dance, Mr. Hardy?"_

" _I did, though I warn in advance, I have two left feet. I'll attempt not to trample you, however."_

 _Lou Amesbury chuckled. "I'll give you a chance, Mr. Hardy. I'll try to mind your feet as well."_

 _James swept Lou onto the dance floor and forgot all about his inability to dance properly. They maintained a discreet distance between them and James forgot about all the others in the dance hall, sometimes even missing the music to which they danced as he took Lou about the dance floor. Eventually thirst called them both and they took a break, adjourning to the long table that held a large punch bowl filled with a red liquid._

 _James regarded Lou for a few moments and he watched her as she sipped delicately at her punch. He considered his next words as he drank and spoke them before he lost his nerve._

" _I was wondering, Miss Lou, if you'd care to go to the ice cream shop next week. Pick a day, I shall be available."_

 _Lou looked thoughtful for a moment, her eyes darting to an older couple in one corner, standing amidst other adults of their age, talking._

" _We'll have to ask my parents," she turned back to James. "But I'd really like that, James."_

 _James swallowed nervously as he looked at her parents. He squared his back and offered an arm to Lou. "Hardys show no fear, Miss Lou. I'd be honored."_

 _Never mind the anxiety in his gut and his suddenly dry mouth – despite the glass of punch. Personally, he would rather take on a whole army of German soldiers than talk to Louisa Amesbury's parents._

 _The walk across the dance floor felt like the walk of doom. Worry they might not like him, that they would forbid him to court their daughter, almost made him flee for the hills and not take the chance. Still, he approached, forcing each step to bring him closer._

" _Mama, Papa, may I present Mr. James Hardy?" Lou stood to one side as she made the introductions. "James, these are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Amesbury – Irvin and Elaine."_

" _Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Amesbury." James offered a hand to Mr. Amesbury – the source of Lou's dark hair and then Mrs. Amesbury – the source of Lou's blue eyes. Mr. Amesbury sported brown eyes and stood even taller than James' six foot even. He dressed casually in dark slacks and shirt sleeves and held a cup of punch in a sturdy grip. Mrs. Amesbury had reddish hair, going silver and wore a long black skirt with a neat white blouse._

" _A pleasure, young man," Mr. Amesbury rumbled. "You're Robert Hardy's boy, aren't you?"_

" _Yes, sir," James relaxed slightly. "I have that pleasure."_

" _A good man, your father. And do I hear you plan to join up next year?" Mr. Amesbury inquired._

" _It is something I've considered," James admitted. "It is a bit of a family tradition, for all the lads to spend at least a few years serving the country. My mother is trying to talk me out of it – with war brewing in Europe she fears even we Americans may be sent over to help our allies. I have an offer from State as well, with a scholarship provided if I choose to go that route."_

" _I do appreciate a young man with plans for the future. May I assume you have interest in my Louey?"_

 _Lou blushed and mildly protested her father's use of the name Louey._

" _I do at that, sir," James agreed. "I was wanting to ask your permission to bring Lou to the soda parlor for an ice cream, perhaps during the next week sometime. I promise to be on my best behavior and to have her home promptly after."_

 _Irvin Amesbury seemed to consider a moment – and he exchanged a look or two with his wife. He turned back to James a moment later._

" _I appreciate your interest, son," Mr. Amesbury stated and James wondered if now he was going to be turned down. The Hardys were no family of monetary means; he suspected Mr. Amesbury wanted more for his daughter._

" _I think Wednesday should be a good day for your outing," Mr. Amesbury stated to James' surprise. "Mind you have her home before dinner at seven and we expect you to stay to sup with us. Do we have an agreement?"_

 _James' heart nearly leapt out of his chest. "We do, sir. Thank you, thank you very much."_

 _*mostwonderfulthing*mostwonderfulthing*_

"We danced every dance the rest of the night," James relaxed back in the sofa and handed another picture to his nephew. Joe studied the picture of James and Lou standing together outside of the dance hall, both still bashful. "And I did take her out to ice cream that week."

"That's so romantic," Laura gushed from where she sat nearby, regarding her great uncle-in-law and her son. "She sounds like a wonderful woman, Uncle James."

"She was." James peered down wistfully at the picture again. "For the whole time I knew her. A wonderful woman with quite the temper to her. She was not a woman you wanted to make angry if you could help it."

Laura studied her phone and glanced at her call log, then looked up at the clock as if to confirm the time on her phone was correct.

"Something wrong, Laura?" Fenton asked his wife as he looked up from his newspaper.

"Yes," Laura agreed. "Or maybe. Frank's missed his latest phone-in."

"So call him. Perhaps he forgot," Fenton suggested calmly as he shifted in his chair. Laura already hit the dial button on her phone – and listened to it ring through until she got his voice mail.

She hung up and tried again – three times, before she finally stood. "I can't get through to him! I can't get through to him at all. Something's wrong."

*endofchapter*endofchapter*


	5. Chapter 5 - Aftermath

**THE MOST WONDERFUL THING  
by Rokia**

 **Chapter 5**

"Let's not get too worried yet, Laura," Fenton begged his wife as he got up from his seat to cross over to the worried mother. "He could have stopped somewhere and left his phone in the car. Maybe he needed a pit stop. Let's give it a little more time."

Laura sighed. _This,_ she reflected, _is just like all those other times I worried about the boys when they were off solving those very dangerous cases of theirs. Why I don't have a whole head of gray hair, I'll never know._

Laura turned and went over to the stereo to turn on one of her favorite local radio stations – currently playing all Christmas music – and she went to fiddle with the ornaments on the tree again. She moved a couple that seemed to be out of place and glanced down at the pile of presents resting beneath the tree.

"Joe Hardy, have you been messing with the presents – again?" she demanded of her son a moment later.

Joe grinned at her boyishly. "Me, Mom? Would I mess with the presents? Not ever! I'm a good boy, I am! You make sure Santa knows that."

Gertrude made a rude noise from her rocking chair where she currently sat, knitting something that looked vaguely like a large blanket – at least Joe hoped that wasn't going to be a sweater. It'd fit three Hardys if it was.

"I'm sure." Laura bent down to reorganize the gifts again, noting the stack added by James sitting to one side. She fidgeted with them until Fenton touched her shoulder.

"Laura, come sit down. You're getting all worked up. We have to give Frank another hour at least before we can do anything, you know that. If we worry for no reason he'll be extremely upset with us."

"I'll be upset with us if he's hurt and we aren't helping him," Laura groused. "But all right, I'll sit back down again."

"Maybe Uncle James can tell us another story in the meantime. I'm sure he has one for us to enjoy." Fenton glanced over at his uncle, a hopeful expression on his face.

James looked up for a moment and studied his niece-in-law before he nodded. He glanced over at Joe as he pulled out another picture.

"Now this picture," he said, "This was taken the day we got married, your aunt and I. I got to tell you, son, nobody ever looked prettier on her wedding day than your Aunt Lou…"

 _December 23_ _rd_ _, 1942_

" _I take you, Louisa Jane Amesbury, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until death do us part."_

 _James stared into the blue eyes of his Lou and saw her wipe another tear from her cheek as she held his hand before the minister. They held each other's gazes as she spoke her own vows to him and he felt his heart speed up just that much faster as he realized that she was his wife, his own, until the day death took one or both of them._

I just hope it isn't me. War's a scary place and I could be there in the next couple of years – or even next year.

 _Those thoughts fled as he took the ring he'd bought her – it wasn't much, just a simple circle made of silver – but she looked proudly at it as he put it on her finger and they repeated their words of love to one another._

 _The minister got to those final words of the ceremony._

" _I now pronounce you man and wife," the minister stated calmly. "James, you may now kiss your bride."_

 _James leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. No sweeter taste existed, nothing else mattered than the one now in his arms, who now held his own name. He finally parted from her and took her hand in his, kissing the ring on her finger as they faced the gathered audience._

" _I'd like to present to you Mr. and Mrs. James Hardy," the minister announced and James and Lou ran down the middle aisle to the back of the church. A car waited outside to bring them back around to the Amesbury's home for the reception but James remembered very little else of that day beyond the look of love on Lou's face and the adoration she showed for him._

" _No better Christmas," James told her softly. "No better gift has a man received than I have this day, to have you as my wife. I do love you, Lou."_

 _Lou's face lit up even more and she leaned over to kiss him, throwing her arms around him in abandon and holding him tightly. "I love you, my James. I'm so glad you walked over to me at that dance last year."_

 _James thrilled at the very heartfelt words from his wife and drifted through the reception, speaking vaguely to the attendants, hearing sage words of advice from his parents – and from Lou's parents. He withheld the urge to heartily smack his younger brother for what Winston considered to be sage words of advice and grinned at Lou's narrowed expression upon speaking with the younger boy._

 _The day led to a better night, where he lay with his wife for the first time. Before they drifted off to sleep they spoke of dreams again. Of family, of health and of James' safety while he was in the Army._

" _Wherever they send you, James Hardy, you come back to me safely," Lou held his hands urgently. "And no matter how long we are parted, you remember that I am here and that I love you. I will love you no matter how long they keep you away from me."_

 _James kissed her again, hoping to calm her fears. "I promise." He kissed the knuckles of one hand and hoped he was able to keep that promise. The American offensive in both the Pacific and Africa – leading toward Europe – meant he would see battle soon._

 _They spoke often before he finally agreed to join up, of what was best for their future. The Hardy legacy – joining the armed services when of age – meant a lot to James and Lou, his beautiful, beloved Lou – she understood._

 _Their honeymoon period would be short-lived – he was due to ship out the 2_ _nd_ _of January to go to training at Fort McPherson and they planned to spend every possible moment together between now and then. Because of his imminent departure, Lou planned to stay with her parents, rather than moving into army housing, so she would be close to family during James' regrettable long absences._

" _I do love you, Louisa Jane Hardy," James whispered again as sleep crept over them both. "I will always love you."  
_

 _Just 10 short days later Lou stood with James at the bus stop, holding tightly to his hand as they awaited the arrival of the bus that would take James from her life until his first leave and James suddenly felt unable to release her. She looked so beautiful, dressed in a simple blouse and skirt, her hair pulled away from her face with simple hair pins. She held a bouquet of flowers he bought her that morning and her face bore tracks from the tears she shed._

" _Was easier to talk about than do," she admitted to him as she held tightly to his arm. "But you're doing the right thing, I know that."_

 _She reached into her pocket then and pulled out something – a pair of scissors. She reached up to her hair and cut off a lock and wrapped it quickly with a small bit of ribbon in her pocket._

" _You keep this close to you." Lou put it into his hand and closed his fingers around it. "I love you. You ever feel lonely or forgotten, you look down at this and remember. I love you. I may not be with you in person but I'm with you always in spirit and in your heart. So when you feel lonely, squeeze this and think of me."_

 _James took the simple package and tucked it into a pocket of his jacket. He would remember, later, to put it into the shirt pocket of his uniform, right over his heart._

 _They kissed once more as the bus arrived and James hefted his duffle bag._

 _James watched her from the window while she waved at him and blew kisses. He caught those and put them over his heart as well – no better gift, he reminded himself. No better Christmas. No better promise for the future existed than his Lou._

Laura couldn't help getting misty eyed as she listened to the story of James' wedding to Lou. She dreamed of her own sons' weddings to their girls and wondered if she should lay in the supply of Kleenex now, rather than wait for the rush before whatever day those events happened.

"That's a beautiful story, James," she smiled at the older man and saw he bore tears of his own and she wondered. Were they tears of joy, for memory of the day, or tears of loss, for what was taken from him? Laura had no idea which but she got up again and sat beside James, wrapping her arms around him.

"I would have so loved meeting your Lou," she said to him again, as she said often in the past. "To meet the woman whom you have held in esteem and love for so long."

"She was a remarkable woman," James commented wistfully. "She stole my heart early and never gave it back, even after she was gone."

Laura hugged James again and jumped when the phone rang. She started to reach for it but her husband grabbed the phone first.

"Hardy residence," Fenton said calmly.

" _Dad_?" Fenton sat up promptly when he heard the voice of his oldest son. " _Dad_?"

"I'm here, Frank. What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

" _Went off the road,"_ Frank sounded weak. _"I-95…past the turn-off to Aberdeen…"_

"Are you okay Frank? How badly are you hurt?" Fenton demanded while secretly wishing he'd done the smart thing and put in a call when Laura expressed her concerns.

" _Head…hurts. Can't move… it's cold…"_ Frank stammered. _"Want to sleep."_

"Don't do that!" Fenton ordered. "You stay awake, Frank. I mean it. Here, Joe…talk to him and keep him awake!"

Fenton handed the phone to Joe and pulled out his cell phone to call the Maryland Highway Patrol and State Police offices.

Laura hovered over Joe while Joe spoke to his older brother in strident tones.

"You are so not going to miss Christmas here, brother." Joe tried to keep his tone calm so as not to alarm either his mother, his uncle or his brother but he wanted to keep Frank's attention.

" _Not…choice…"_ Frank's voice kept going in and out. Joe worried about internal damage and if Frank breathed properly. Joe held tightly to his phone and thought for a moment.

"You know…I have a good idea," he said with a grin. "Uncle James is here. How about he tells you a story. You're going to stay awake for an Uncle James story aren't you? It has to be more interesting than listening to me blather on about the football scores and how lousy the Jets are doing despite having an ace quarterback."

" _Always do lousy,"_ Frank muttered. _"Root for real team."_

"Them's fighting words, Frank," Joe retorted. "I do root for a real team. I sure don't root for the Philadelphia Eagles. You're a New Yorker, Frank, root for a New York team!"

" _Not on your life,"_ Frank gasped out. _"Eagles much better. Like Eagles."_

Joe snorted audibly. "Obviously you're getting delusional, big brother. Here, talk to Uncle James and try to keep your delusions to yourself. Eagles. Bah."

Joe handed the phone to James and glanced anxiously at his father while James made small talk with Frank.

"Can they get there?" Joe asked his father when Fenton finally flipped his cell phone closed.

"They'll work on it but the weather is awful – it may take them over an hour and we have to worry about him freezing in the meantime."

Joe resisted the urge to run out to his car and drive immediately to the rescue. He paced the floor apprehensively and rubbed his hands through his hair, disheveling the locks.

Joe's attention was taken a moment later by his uncle, who began another story.

*endofchapter*endofchapter*

 **Author's Note:** I so very much love the feedback you have all provided for me for this story! Thank you again. :)


	6. Chapter 6 - Search and Rescue

**Author's Note:** (Please see bottom of chapter for answers to questions) - The HB are owned by Simon and Schuster & the Stratemeyer Syndicate, not by little ole me, who is just borrowing them for a jaunt. I will return them, mostly in one piece, when done.

 **The Most Wonderful Thing**

 **Chapter 6**

James took the phone from Joe, a familiar feeling of dread washing over him, forcing several deep breaths before he spoke.

"Frank? It's Uncle James." He kept his voice calm and even, as he did once long ago to keep a friend from getting alarmed. "Are you with me?"

" _Yes…"_ The voice was slow and just a hiss. James marveled at how much Frank's voice changed since his last visit when Frank was sixteen, and he wondered if Frank looked as different now as Joe did. _"With…you. Hi…Uncle…James."_

"Hello, soldier," James stated. "Sorry to hear you've had a mishap getting home. You hurting badly?"

" _A bit._ " Frank sounded more than a bit hurt. He sounded totally done in.

"Well, you know, I was in a similar situation when I was in the army – just barely nine days into the Battle of the Bulge…"

 _December 24, 1944 (Battle of the Bulge)_

" _Well, ole pal, ole friend, think we're going to get out of this one in one piece?" Albert 'Bud' MacPherson asked James as they sat in back of a Jeep taking them closer to the newest battleground. "It's brutal as sin out here!"_

" _The Lord's graces, Bud, and we'll be there and back in one piece." James leaned back in his seat and looked up at the stars overhead. He felt both anxious and excited – an advanced battleground meant a lot of danger, a lot of fear and a few brief moments of feeling you've done something right. He patted his shirt pocket, where he kept the lock of hair he received from his wife the day he shipped out for Fort McPherson. He and Bud, who went to the same training camp as James, used to joke about Bud's last name and the name of the army base. James joked often that he should use his name to get him out of some seriously hard training courses – such as the overly brutal obstacle course they ran on a daily basis._

 _James shook his head at the fond memories of his good friend and reached into his pocket again. He found an envelope – the newest missive from his beloved Lou. She spent the time he was away at war taking nursing classes at a nearby school in the hopes of later being of service to returning soldiers from the war. She spoke of how hard her classes were, of the on-hand training she took part in and how sad it seemed that so many soldiers she read of felt so lonely._

 _She begged him to remember she was always with him and that he had no cause for loneliness. She missed him very much but encouraged him to always be strong and fight for what was good and right in the world._

 _James kissed the letter where she signed with a simple 'With all the love in my heart, your Lou' and he sighed with memory. He folded the envelope and tucked it into his shirt pocket again and looked out, one hand still on his very large rifle, ready to take aim at a moment's notice if any Nazis popped into his view._

" _Look alive back there," he heard a whisper from the front of the jeep. "We've got enemy soldiers ahead. Get ready to scatter."_

 _James took a firmer hold of his rifle and looked around, as far as he could see._

 _He had no time to react, really, when something large hit the jeep in which he sat and sent him spinning end over end until the jeep landed at the bottom of a nearby ravine. His head spun with pain and he tried to shake loose the cobwebs._

" _Hardy! Report in! Hardy? MacPherson? Tambult? Report in!" a strident voice ordered over their radio. "Report in!"_

 _James heard the words but, at the moment, was in no shape to respond to the orders. He heard a slight groan to the left – Bud lay nearly on top of his head and blood gushed out of a wound over Bud's right eye. James tried to twist himself free of the wreckage but found his leg truly trapped by one of the Jeep's struts._

" _Hardy! MacPherson! Tambult, report in!" the voice ordered again. James looked about cautiously; he saw Tambult lying some ten or so feet away from the jeep, obviously dead from being tossed out. James jerked on his foot again to try to free it – and regretted the action immediately. Hot pain soared up his leg and he grimaced in agony as he tried to catch his breath again._

 _James reached – the radio was usually only just in the middle of the front seat and he tried to grab hold of the receiver. He jerked his leg once too often which forced him to lie back again._

" _Move it, Hardy," he ordered himself. "You lie here, you never see Lou again. You promised her, James. You promised her!"_

 _James sat up and leaned, using every amount of effort he had to reach the radio. He pulled back on the cord and brought the receiver/transmitter with him and he laid back for a moment, to catch his breath._

" _Corporal Hardy reporting in," James spoke into the microphone of the radio receiver. "This is Corporal James Hardy, reporting in."_

 _He gave his battalion number and rank again before he heard the same voice from before._

" _Hardy, this is Captain Eggleton. Where are you?"_

 _James groaned. "Bottom of the ravine, sir. We got hit by something. Sergeant Tambult is dead. I heard Corporal MacPherson groan a few minutes ago."_

 _Eggleton cursed over the radio. "You stay put, Hardy. I'm sending a rescue team down to get you." Eggleton cursed some more and James admired the Captain's use of certain invectives._

 _Meanwhile, James intended to obey orders and stay put. He was freezing, however and wanted nothing more than to get warm somewhere. Belgium and France in the winter were nowhere near a good time as far as James was concerned. If it didn't rain, it snowed – and he suspected a good snowfall was about to happen imminently. Didn't anyone ever teach the Germans not to fight a battle in the winter?_

 _James fought for consciousness and decided to sing Christmas carols to keep himself awake. God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman, Jingle Bells, Silent Night… that carol in particular was always Lou's favorite and he sang it through a few times, off-pitch as his voice was, just to hear a voice out loud._

 _He pulled her lock of hair from his pocket and held it tightly, kissing it when he felt lonely and afraid._ My beloved Lou, _he thought,_ I will get home to you, somehow. I promise you, my love. I will get home to you.

During the telling of his story, James stopped often to ask Frank if he was awake and listening. He occasionally heard grunts of pain and moans of agony but James stopped to force Frank to acknowledge him.

"I had to force Bud to wake up too," James told his nephew, aware the rest of his family – except Fenton who was once again on his cell phone – was listening. "And keep him awake. I'm sure he got pretty tired of hearing about my last two leaves home and all about my Lou. You still with me?"

No immediate answer alarmed the oldest Hardy.

"Frank? Frank speak to me, boy. Are you with me?" James wondered if he sounded a lot like his old Captain sounded that day over the radio.

" _Here…"_ the voice sounded even weaker.

"Ask him if he can flash his car lights," Fenton asked from his cell phone. "The Highway Patrol thinks they're getting close but it's almost a white-out there now."

"Flash your lights, Frank," James ordered, without giving Frank any option in the matter. "You need to flash your lights so the searchers can find you. You can do it. Just like I got that radio you can flash those lights."

"… _k…"_ Frank muttered. James heard a moan, then a yelp of pain and then nothing except very heavy and raspy breathing.

"Frank! Franklin Winston Hardy, speak to me!" James ordered his brother's grandson. "Speak to me, Frank!"

" _Hurts…"_ Frank whispered. _"Hurts…"_

"Did you get the lights?" James saw Joe pacing, still wringing his hands.

" _Got…"_ Frank managed to say. _"Hurts…"_

Joe collapsed into a chair by his aunt and James was aware of his nephew's close scrutiny.

"Got him!" Fenton exclaimed as he leapt over to where James stood and reached for the phone his uncle held. "They can see him now. Here…"

Fenton took the phone from James. "Frank? The rescuers are there. They're going to get you out, just hold on a little longer, all right? No going to sleep until they tell you it's okay."

" _Tired…"_ Frank complained. _"Hurt…"_

"I know, son, I know," Fenton agreed. "And I know it's hard when you're hurting and tired but stay awake for a bit longer."

"… _k…"_ Frank sounded reluctant and so very tired. Fenton glanced over at his family and saw every eye on him, waiting, simply waiting for news Frank was rescued.

He heard a voice in his cell phone and held it to his ear.

" _We're to the car now, Fenton,"_ Sergeant Travis, an old friend from Fenton's own army days, said to him. _"We've got a rescue team here and they're going to start extracting him now. You know he called at the right time. Another half hour and we wouldn't have been able to get to him until the storm passed."_

"I know." Fenton rubbed at his forehead. "Thanks for all your help. You'll call me when he's at the hospital? Assure him we'll be there as soon as possible tomorrow."

" _You got it,"_ Travis agreed. _"I have to go now and help with the removal – I'll call you as soon as I can."_

Travis hung up his phone and Fenton looked back at his family. "They have him; they're getting him to the hospital. Travis promised to call as soon as they get him to the hospital."

"We should get down there," Joe exclaimed.

"Not until morning," Fenton stated steadily. "The weather is just too bad right now and Frank is in good hands. I promise, first light if the weather is broken, we'll be out of here and on our way. We can bring the gifts with us and open them with Frank."

Joe looked mutinous but James put a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"It's good sense, Joe." James held tightly to Joe's arm. "Just good common sense. Frank is in good hands. We do him no good by endangering ourselves."

Joe sighed and collapsed back into a chair yet again, eyes unfocused for a moment.

"I just hate to leave him all alone," Joe whispered softly. "I hate it."

"I know," James nodded. "But he's not alone and he knows that. Just like I know it. Just like I've known it for 63 years now. He's safe, he'll be fine and we have tomorrow. Now, why don't we go help your aunt with dinner and we'll get a bag packed so we're ready to leave tomorrow."

Joe sighed, obviously reluctant but he stood again and followed James into the kitchen.

"Uncle James," Fenton called from the living room. James poked his head back out into the other room. "Thank you."

*endofchapter*endofchapter*

Author's Note: Guest - most message boards allow you to hide your birthdate once you input it. You just have to prove you're more than 13. As for the Wayback Machine, it hasn't been updated since about 2008 or so... so the answer is some maybe, some won't be.


	7. Chapter 7 - Epilogue

**Author's Note: The Hardy Boys are not owned by me but are owned by the Stratemeyer Syndicate and Simon and Schuster. Thanks for letting me borrow them for a few stories! Uncle James is mine but the rest are theirs.**

 **The Most Wonderful Thing**

 **EPILOGUE**

The weather cleared that night and Christmas Day in stark contrast was calm, peaceful – and freezing. The clearing weather allowed the temperatures to plummet to below zero but the Hardy family packed up presents, bags for each of them and a bag for Frank and got on the road in Fenton Hardy's sedan to make the trek to Harford Memorial Hospital in the town closest to where Frank crashed - Havre De Grace, Maryland.

James kept his gaze out the window, listening to Joe's nervous conversation until the younger man put on a set of headphones and turned on one of those new fangled music players – an m3 player or some such thing. James missed the days of cassettes and record players, even with the convenience of the new devices.

The last phone call from Lieutenant Travis told them that Frank was in serious but stable condition at the Harford Memorial Hospital; he suffered from a couple of broken ribs, a broken leg and a mild concussion but, after they reinflated a collapsed lung, he stabilized. Right now they worried slightly more about exposure and the near hypothermic state in which the doctors received their patient.

The going, despite most of the main roads having been hit with a snowplow, went slow. Fenton kept to just under the speed limit and in places slowed down even more, intent on making it to Maryland in one piece. James found himself with little else to do besides think – and remember.

 _March 19, 1945_

" _Hardy, I need to see you in my office for a minute." James looked up at the general who worked at their base of operations and stood to attention, popping off an immediate salute to the older, gray-haired man who worked so closely with his squad._

" _Yes, sir!" James agreed as he followed the general into the room connected to the single building in their advanced area and he stayed at attention in the office until the general motioned to a chair._

" _Have a seat, son," the general ordered and James felt his heart rise to his throat as he thought of the times any of his mates came into this office and heard those fateful words. It never heralded good news, nor did that look of compassion in the general's eyes._

" _I'm afraid we've received word from Stateside, Corporal," the general said in a measured tone. "There was an accident at home."_

 _An accident at home. An accident at home. An accident at home. The words echoed through James' mind._

" _My… my mother or father?" he asked, because somehow he thought he might be able to bear news about them but not, as he dreaded, about his Lou, his beautiful, beloved, wonderful Lou._

" _No, James," the general used his first name for the first time in James' memory – not that he spoke often to the general. "I'm afraid it involves your wife, Mrs. Louisa Hardy."_

 _Someone obviously just punched James in the stomach because he folded in on himself, unable to sit upright in the chair._

" _She was hit by a car on her way home from work," the general continued in those same even tones, even as James' heart ripped asunder. "I'm afraid she didn't make it, son."_

" _No!" James protested as he sprang to his feet. "No, please…no…"_

 _He knew it was the truth but he thought, if just maybe he denied it, he might be able to force the general to take those dreaded words back. Not my Lou, he thought viciously. Not my Lou!_

" _I'm so sorry, son." The general stood and came back around his desk. He put a hand on James' shoulder – and caught the young man as he fell, almost missing the chair from which he sprang earlier. "I'm so sorry. You've been granted benevolence leave. There's a transport that flies out tomorrow morning, I've already given orders they're to fly you to London and then stateside. You'll land at Fort McPherson and be given a lift home."_

 _James heard very little else for the next three days that it took him to finally get home. He heard nothing his squad mates tried to tell him as he left._

 _When he was let out at his parents-in-law's house his parents met him and he fell into his mother's arms, sobbing. His mother sobbed as well, offering little in the way of solace as she led James into the Amesburys' home. Both Irvin and Elaine sat on a sofa near the fire, looking lost until Irvin looked up at James. Quickly, Lou's father sprang to his feet and reached for James, pulling him close._

" _You're home safely." Tears spread down Irvin's cheeks again. "I'm so sorry you weren't here at the last, James. She…she had last words, before she died. She told me to tell you to remember – remember what she told you when you left for training – and every time you left since then."_

 _James reached into his pocket – the lock of hair was still there, the ribbon frayed, the hair dirtier than when he received it, but he clenched it tightly in a fist._

" _She said I'm never alone," he whispered. "Never alone. She'll always be with me…but, oh, God, it hurts…"_

It still hurt. So very many years later – and it still hurt. In the rest of his tour of duty with the army, in his schooling, his many travels – no one ever matched Lou's beauty or fire in his mind. He saw things he knew she would want to see, trying to live a life for both of them.

Frank looked a mess when they were allowed, two at a time, into his room in the intensive care unit at the hospital. Two machines were connected to him and two other IVs but Frank looked peaceful and calm – and deeply asleep when James was allowed to look in at him shortly after arrival.

He looked handsome, his hair the same color as Fenton's – or Lou's. He walked quietly over to the young man and gently touched Frank's hair. It felt as Lou's did, that cold winter day so long ago when they said their first goodbyes.

James reached into his pocket and pulled out the frazzled lock of hair he always carried, even to this day, and he kissed it once and looked up at the sky.

"Thank you, Lord," he said again softly. "Thank you for bringing him through safely. And thank you, Father, for her. Always for Lou, my Lou, the greatest gift a man ever had…"

 ***endofstory***

 **Thanks so much for reading and for reviewing! I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **Now on a not so fun note:** I'm not going to get into a discussion about non-story related things via reviews. If you want to talk to me about something not related to the story, man-up and make an account OR contact me via the HDA mailbox. The whole not wanting to enter your birthdate thing is so much sophistry. I've already given people encouragement to post their stories here. Hopefully they will all do so.


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